


The Irresistible Sea is to Separate Us

by japastiel



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Drowning, F/M, M/M, Suicide Attempt, actually MerElves that are Seahorses, one sided turgon/finrod, the Teleri Royalty has a line that are MerElves, this will be resolved in possible future chapters, to be more specific: merElves, unrequited Finrod/Turgon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4110310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/japastiel/pseuds/japastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finrod longs for the sea almost as much as he longs for Turgon's love. Elves have always had a love affair with the sea, just how deep does the yearning go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Irresistible Sea is to Separate Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coraregina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coraregina/gifts).



> Out of the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop gently to me,  
> Whispering, _I love you, before long I die,_  
>  _I have travell’d a long way merely to look on you to touch you,_  
>  _For I could not die till I once look’d on you,_  
>  _For I fear’d I might afterward lose you._
> 
>  
> 
> Now we have met, we have look’d, we are safe,  
> Return in peace to the ocean my love,  
> I too am part of that ocean, my love, we are not so much separated,  
> Behold the great rondure, the cohesion of all, how perfect!  
> But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us,  
> As for an hour carrying us diverse, yet cannot carry us diverse forever;  
> Be not impatient – a little space – know you I salute the air, the ocean and the land,  
> Every day at sundown for your dear sake, my love.  
> -Walt Whitman

* * *

 

 

  
            There are stories, tales, legends told of the sea elves. Not just elves who live by the sea, elves who live in the sea. Finrod hears of these from his cousins, then his mother. He begs his mother to tell him over and over, night after night as she puts him to bed. Up until he comes of age, they are his favourite bedtime stories. Elves who can breathe underwater and swim like fish. They wear pearls in their hair and sing like the ocean winds. Finrod imagines them in shallow coral reefs, basking in the gold light below the rippling warm waters. Until his mother explains that any sea elves that may still exist (she winks at him) would be far, far up north off the icy shores in the coldest waters in Arda.

 

            Eärwen also tells her oldest son tales of her youth, living along the sea, her travels up north to see the way the water could almost freeze solid but never quite, letting the ice flow in waves. He always pictured it as grey and bleak but now, he can see the monochrome beauty in the frozen sea. The depth of the blue greys fading into both shades of black and white. The goldsilver colour of the sand, a dusting of snow at the shore. The dark brackish water calling to him in the softest rushing roar he could have only heard before in his dreams. He knows that water like this is never warm and only gets colder as his body would fall into the bottomless frozen sea.

 

            _How serene_ his mind repeats over and over as he stares out over the frozen icy waves. He closes his clear blue eyes and lets the wind whip his golden locks over his face while he pictures what it would be like. Walking across the cold sand at first, letting the grains crumble between his toes, then the wet sand would stick to the pads of his toes and finally the cold water would prickle his skin as the small waves lap up to shore. He wonders if the water will feel thick between his fingers and toes, what it's going to taste like. If the salt will be overwhelming or maybe it's so cold it’ll freeze him before he can taste anything at all.

 

            He opens his eyes and takes a step forward. _This is how it should be_ he thinks as the first dark waves lap over his thin pale ankles. The water burns the skin behind his knees and before he knows it his hair is swirling in front of his face and the salt should burn his eyes but- right before he can take his first breath of sea water he feels a large hand pulling his sinking body up and up breaking the surface of the water.

 

He gasps and fills his lungs with the cold sea wind instead.

 

 

‘What are you doing, you idiot!” Turgon pulls him so they are chest to chest, barely able to stand, toes grasping for purchase in the sea flow.

 

“What does it look like, taking a swim!” Finrod pushes at Turgon’s chest as they both maneuver closer to shore, they both look ridiculous, their clothes clinging to their bodies like too-loose second skin.

 

“No, I don’t think so, Findaráto,” Turgon glares at him and pushes his wet hair back off his face, “Now tell me exactly what you're doing out here.”

 

“You followed me?” Finrod avoids the question, glaring back at Turgon, “Why?”

 

 "Because you’re my friend, you idiot,” Turgon’s face softens, “and I knew you weren't…” his voice fades into the cold wind.

 

“You knew I wasn’t what Turukáno? In my right mind? _Sane_? Well maybe _you_ had something to do with that.” Finrod bites back, bearing his teeth in a hard sneer.

 

 

            “Fin- stop. You know I care for you more than I should, eru have mercy, but-” he pauses and looks away across the churning water. “Let's go to shore, you’re shivering.” He reaches for Finrod but before his hand can land it's slapped away and Finrod pulls back, further into the water, one step, then two steps. “Don’t touch me!” Finrod growls, and looks down at his swirling reflection in the undulating waves and starts walking towards the shore, away from Turgon.

 

Turgon wades through the water, dragging his nearly numb feet through the frozen tide and catches  Finrod on the wet, snowy sand, “I’m sorry Fin-- I love you, but I--”

 

 

“Shut UP, Turukáno, I understood you the first time. I’m not as stupid as you must think I am,”

 

 

‘No I don’t think you did - I do love you Fin. I just love Elenwë as well-”

 

 

‘You love her more-”

 

“No-”

 

            “BUT YOU DO!” Finrod wheels around and screams, using both his hands to push Turgon back by his shoulders, “I've loved you my whole life and now-” he grits his teeth, “now I get to watch you marry her, have children with her, and I just can’t sit idly by and watch.”

 

“This isn't the answer,” Turgon pleads.

 

 

‘How do you know that Turno? Maybe it is, maybe this is my answer,” Finrod gulps for air, looking away towards the dark water, letting the scent of salt settle on his tongue and tasting the odd sweetness of it.

 

            Finrod recalls the wonderful shortbread cookies his grandmother would bake for him in his youth, “the secret is the salt” she would smile slyly as he grinned around delicious crumbs. They were always his favourite. Finrod decides in the split second that it takes Turgon to reach for him again and reels his arm back and hits Turgon hard enough to knock him unconscious, his body crumpling to the silvery sand.

 

 

“I’m sorry cousin, but I can’t stay here. I’m sorry I’m so weak and selfish.”

 

            Finrod turns away, this time shedding his clothing, piece by piece until the water is pricking at his naked skin. He goes under, still surprised by how clear everything appears; he can see the light at the surface glittering in the mingling gold and silver. He shuts his eyes. And inhales. Waiting for the fading and the silence. He had imagined this a thousand times on his journey to the sea; how it would be. If it would hurt, the cold water filling his lungs or if he would feel bliss and everything would fade to black from the light breaking through the waves.

 

            Neither of those scenarios plays out. He takes a second breath and starts sinking. He figures this must be a dream or this is the journey to the afterlife of the damned. He takes a third breath and a burst of sweetness and the smell of those salty cookies bursts into his mouth and the sweet gardenia scent of his mother's perfume lingers longer with every breath.

 

            He drops into the depths, further, further. And he thinks. _How how is this possible? How am I breathing. This is impossible._ He watches his hands scoop water, moving him forward and down, down.

 

            When he reaches the break where the light nearly doesn't filter down anymore, he sees her. Long gold hair and…is that a tail? She stills and they stare at each other for what could have been less than a second or long enough for entire universes to begin and end. She stops mere inches from him, and looks over him curiously, then smiles “I’m Amarië,” she continues to circle him lazily, obviously not threatened, ”what are you?”

 

Enchanted, he reaches up to touch the tips of her hair, “I’m- I’m Findaráto.” he distractedly watches his fingers flex towards her in the water.

 

 

“Oh you!” she grins wider, “you’ve finally come home!” she reaches out to touch his shoulder and a warm tingle fills his body slowly from the spot where her fingertips rest on his shoulder. He wants to, needs to pull away but the warmth is so inviting and nothing could’ve been better.

 

            He looks down and where his legs had been is a tail, not unlike her own, color matching his hair, a few shades more silver than her bright gold. He wants to scream but this change to his body feels like dying and coming home all at once. He panics, unable to get the dizzying spiraling haze out from his head.

 

            He wrenches his body away from her touch and swims faster, faster than he could before and breaks the surface, expecting to drown in the air. _How odd._ But he inhales and breathes the salty air easily, like it's normal and natural. _Wait, it is. Or is it?_  he isn’t sure of anything anymore. The water on his skin turns to frost he realizes that nothing will ever be the same again. He frantically looks for the shore but all he can see is cold icy water for miles and miles and miles. _He is truly gone and lost now._ He can hear the distant cry of gulls and there is an iceberg in the distance. As he dips back down, he can see the true monumental size below the waves.

 

            He feels the ripples in the water as she returns to his side. _This can’t be_ he thinks. His mind is screaming at him _you are definitely dead_ , _this is all wrong_. He can’t breathe water, must be dead, having a tail is wrong and impossible. He whirls around and bumps into Amarië. She catches him and pulls him close.

 

 

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes for nothing, for everything.

 

 

“I was coming here to die,” he shouts, panicked by breathing water, his new appendage, everything, and mostly how this all feels so right and smells more like home than Valinor ever had.

 

 

“Well, apparently you were wrong,” she cups his face and kisses his lips lightly, “someone thought you should come here and live, Findaráto, princeling of the Noldor.”

 

She grabs his hand, laces their fingers together and Finrod lets her lead him down, towards his new future.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Hours later, Turgon cracks his eyes to see only cold waves receding. He scrambles to his feet, his last memory of Finrod being angry and-oh Eru have mercy - his shirt is the only thing Turgon can find, having caught on a rock down the shore. Any footprints clearly having washed away. He knew his cousin, his love, second only to Elenwë, is lost to him forever.

 

            Years later, walking on a similar patch of icy shore towards his own fate, Turgon catches a glimpse of two golden heads peeking over the frozen waves. He stares longer than he should, swears he sees a ghost on the horizon, a hallucination from his past. Finrod. Elenwë holds Idril tighter to her chest and asks what he sees. He shakes his head and follows his father and brother onward. He never mentions it to anyone because after so many years, no one ever speaks of Findaráto _Ingoldo_. He is truly a ghost and sometimes it’s as if he never even existed at all.

 

 


End file.
